Seventy
Excerpts from the journal of a woman in full, almost
Before we begin…
What is your favorite number? And what’s the story that goes with that?
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Random thoughts on…
I turned 70 on a recent Monday. It was fine. I walked the dogs, made my son laugh, talked on the phone with my sisters and mom, l heard from good friends, got some Thai takeout for lunch, wrote a few things down. I made and ate chocolate cake. My husband worried all day that he wasn’t doing enough to observe the milestone until I finally told him, as lovingly as I could, that that was his problem to solve, not mine. I was having the day I wanted and needed.
I lied a bit. I was having the day I could handle. I’ve been doing that for a while now. Besides, I really had no idea how to do seventy. I’ve never liked the number 7. All spikes, sharp angles, and attitude. I like the rounder, softer numbers, your 3s, your 8s. The number 7 pokes me in the eye, tells me that I am way more than half-way to the end of the decade, demands an accounting of where I’ve been and where I think I’m going.
Every birthday I’ve ever had that ends in the number 7 has stirred restlessness and anxiety. At 17, I was caught in “almost” land: almost an adult, almost a college student, almost free to leave home, almost – but not yet – ready for any of these things. At 27, the thrilling potential of my first job out of college was well behind me and I was caught without regular employment in a destructive relationship and facing my thirties. At 37, 47, 57, 67 life was solid but there was always that moment when I felt the sharpness of transition – that sense of feeling “almost” and the visceral understanding that I was closer to the end than the beginning.
I am certainly closer to the end of my life than the beginning but that sharp “almost” feeling is missing. I am sitting with a lot of lessons, some heartbreakingly fresh, and understand that as long as I think in terms of “almost,” I will never sink deeply into the moment I occupy right now. The moment I occupy right now is messy and uncomfortable, strewn with memories, desires, unfinished business, sudden changes in my physical and mental capacities, and grief. My usual impulse is to move through this mess the way I move through my often disheveled house, to look up, not down, out not in.
The urge to move away is still very strong but, surprisingly, my 70-year-old self isn’t having it. She’s been rushed forward a good deal of her life. That hasn’t helped her dodge one second of pain or discomfort. She is showing me that if I sit still long enough, the fear, pain, sadness and confusion can lead to clarity about what matters and what doesn’t. In this messy moment, she reminds me that I also have everything I need and what I have always wanted. Life doesn’t get better than it is right this minute. And soon enough, it will be gone.
The previous few paragraphs may or may not be the beginning of something I want to write more about. I didn’t intend to start here today. My thoughts are still very scattered and unformed and I really have little that is new to say about seventy – the age or the number. It feels more important to absorb the wisdom around me. If you have any insights or observations you’d like to share about either one, please share.
Recent entries from my common book
I’ve been reading! Here’s a sampling of lines that I copied into my journal/common book). I’d love to know what thoughts they evoke for you.
“We can cultivate our sense of humor and, as we sense the fierce urgency of time, we can learn to see our own life in proportion to the whole of life in order to feel grateful simply to be alive.”- Mary Pipher, Women Rowing North.
“My aunt Grace said,”I get what I want, but I know what to want.” - Mary Pipher, Women Rowing North
“When I was young, the future was where all the good stuff was kept, the party clothes, the pretty china, the family silver, the grown-up jobs. The future was a land of its own, and we couldn’t wait to get there…The future was also the place where the bad stuff waited in ambush. My children were embarking on their futures in fragile vessels, and I trembled. I wanted to remove obstacles, smooth their way, I wanted to change their childhoods. I needed to be right all the time, I wanted them to listen to me, learn from my mistakes, and save themselves a lot of grief. Well, now I know I can control my tongue, my temper, and my appetites, but that’s it. I have no effect on weather, traffic, or luck. I can’t make good things happen. I can’t keep anybody safe. I can’t influence the future and I can’t fix up the past. What a relief.” - Abigail Thomas, A Three-Dog Life
“As I slough off the busier, more engaged person I used to be, there is also grief. Uncertainty. Open space I don’t know what to do with. A future I can’t quantify. I am crossing the portal into old age. I am not middle-aged anymore.” - Laura Davis, “Reflections on Turning 70.”
“I was waiting always I think for something to happen that would justify me to myself. And I know how narcissistic that sounds. But it’s the opposite really. There never seemed to be a reason for me. It’s like a curse that questioning, that inability to accept my passive role in the expedition of Fate, the seeming fact taht I am because I am and there’s no explaining it so therefore there should be no questioning of it.” - Donal Ryan, Heart Be At Peace
“You have to reimagine the world when someone dies…you can’t just go about your business as before when someone you love departs. The dead take something of the world with them, something of your being, because they were part of your being.” Donal Ryan, Heart Be At Peace.
What have you been reading and what lines are staying with you. Tell us in the comments!
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ICYMI: Michael Estrin and how zombies gave him hope
“There are a lot of lessons in the book about human nature, history, trauma, resilience, panic, denial, leadership, etc. But the lesson that sticks with me is this: Funny people can tackle serious topics…When you apply that comedic mindset to serious topics, you tend to find insights that elude a more serious approach. My instinct is to follow the funny, but sometimes that leads me to serious places, and that’s OK. Actually, it’s a good thing, because I believe that if I can make you laugh, I can open your mind and heart to some other possibilities. That’s not what World War Z is about, and I’m almost positive Max Brooks didn’t write it as a battlecry for comedy writers to get serious, but that’s the lesson that’s stuck with me all these years.” - Michael Estrin on World War Z, the book that taught him something about zombies, comedy, and how finding the funny can be serious business.
Michael Estrin
I’m a strong believer in finding the books that speak to us even when we are not looking for them. Many of us have experienced this bit of magic that can happen to readers. Welcome to our new regular feature where bookish folks from all over weigh in on a special book that found them at exactly the right moment. You never know, this may be how you find …
Language arts: ass
During his birthday call to me, my son asked me what I did to celebrate. Nothing much, I told him and then I said, “We didn’t go hog-ass wild.”
He was stunned. He’d never, I kid you not, heard that expression before. Well, that certainly wasn’t my fault. In any event, we got going and I delved into the deep well of YouTube to fish out this reel from Finnish comedian Ismo who gives a tutorial on all the meanings of the incredibly versatile three-letter word, ass:
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Ciao for now!
Gratefully yours,
Betsy
P.S. And now, your moment of Zen…mood indigo
Evening falls at East Inlet in Pittsburgh, NH, just over the border from Canada.
Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”:
What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.
Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed.
I can’t wait to see what you send!
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What blessing that you were born and grace us with your words. I feel that sense of rushing to avoid pain, so often, and I fail at sitting with it, but I am trying! I do often feel like I'm trying to mentor a younger self --- and maybe trying to hear the wisdom of an older self somehow. Xoxox
Happiest of birthdays, Betsy!